


World of Chaos

by Queen_Snake



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Aromantic Loki, Asexual Thor, BAMF Avengers, BAMF Draco Malfoy, BAMF Harry Potter, BAMF Hermione Granger, BAMF Luna Lovegood, BAMF Neville Longbottom, BAMF Ron Weasley, BAMF Susan Bones, Dark Avengers - Freeform, Dark Bruce Banner, Dark Clint Barton, Dark Draco Malfoy, Dark Golden Trio, Dark Harry Potter, Dark Hermione Granger, Dark Loki (Marvel), Dark Lord Harry Potter, Dark Luna Lovegood, Dark Natasha Romanov, Dark Neville Longbottom, Dark Ron Weasley, Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Susan Bones, Dark Thor (Marvel), Dark Tony Stark, Dark Trio, Dark!Trio, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, Evil Albus Dumbledore, F/F, F/M, Ginny Weasley Bashing, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Molly Weasley Bashing, Morally Ambiguous Character, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Multi, Out of Character, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Seer Luna Lovegood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2019-12-26 00:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18271745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Snake/pseuds/Queen_Snake
Summary: REWRITEYou might think it's strange that...There once was seven kids that grew with false ideals.There once was seven adults that caught insanityThere once was six heroes that fought and fought.There once was six kids that were lost to the worldThere once was a villain that was brainwashed.There once was a tortured kid that was used and abusedThere once was fourteen people that grew up fighting.Now, they're back. To divide and conquer; to kill and rule. To getrevengeIt's TimeWelcome to the World of Chaos





	1. Welcome to the World of Chaos

Dark, so very dark. Black is all he could see. Nothing less. Even his own hands are swallowed into the darkness. He looks around. Who knew what’s in this void of black? So, he looks carefully, trying to get his eyes used to the dark. It didn’t take long at all. After all, darkness is where he is comfortable in.

(He sees the cupboard under the stairs-)

Laughing with hysteria, he looked at his hands once again. They were covered with blood and dirt. How long has it been since he was on the run? How long has it been since he was captured?

The world around him seemed to slow down as a guard entered his room. The guard had a armor with a wand in hand. So old-fashioned that muggles would think it was cosplay.

“Prisoner, you are being moved,” The guard said, emotionless. Their eyes were fierce with hate. Who wouldn’t when they met the Ruler of the Traitors? The guard pushed him threw the halls of the dungeons. Screams filled his ears; people clawing at the grown reached his eyes. Throwing him into the new cell, the guard left him alone.

He laughed sadly, an air of insanity waved around him. All those around him looked sadly at him. His hysterical laughs turned into cries but his eyes shed no tears. It was too late for tears, his torture had gone for too long. Screams of terror filled the halls. Everyone fell to the ground with tears of mourning as another fell dead. Another fell dead to the insanity that cursed these halls.

This cell was full of his friends, the traitors. The ones the refused to follow the new ruler. Was this a new idea of torture? Seeing his friends slowly get swallowed into insanity with him?

It’s normal for those who betrayed the kingdom to be tortured. It’s normal for them to be near death so many times.

Dead bodies filled the cell and again the ones outside their group turned their wands onto the group. Huddled together, they held each other as they went through the pain. Pain that seemed to never stop. It would never stop.

(When will it finally stop?)

“You’re a traitor to the light, Harry Potter! You should’ve never lived that night.” One of the people in front of the cell said - Ginevra Weasley, he recognized. Her long red hair seemed to collect the blood around the cell. She wasn't human, the closest thing to describe her was a monster.

(What happened to the girl he used to love?)

A woman that looked like Ginerva, but older, also stood in front of the cell. “I should’ve never given birth to you, Ron Weasley.” The woman said, the mother figure in his life - Molly Weasley. The boy next to himself seemed to freeze up in shock.

Words of taunting seemed to spill out of the two mouths. They kept saying their disappointment in them. The golden trio, Dumbledore’s pets. Ron Weasley next to the boy-who-lived, hugging close, crying tears of clear depression. His red hair seemed to cover his eyes. Hermione Granger next to the red-headed boy, screaming with all she had into his shoulder. Her hair was flattened against her face, hiding it from view. Harry Potter, the boy-who-was-betrayed, sat next to Ron with a blank stare. His black hair seemed to be dyed red with blood; just like his mother.

(Aren’t they so broken?)

Ron Weasley once was a jealous prat, once was a betrayer. Once he was like all the others outside of their cell. Then he started to think, which their ruler, Albus Dumbledore, did not want. He thought as to why he betrayed his best friend, his _first_ friend. Why did he abandon Harry when the cup spilled his name out? Thoughts floated in his head. This is when he started to oppose his Dumbledore, the Lord of the Light. Started to oppose those he once called mother and father. The one he’d once called sister.

His opposition got him thrown in a cell. Ron was tortured for being a _betrayer_ . Wasn’t he broken enough? They used only light spells, but it hurt so _much_ . How could good spells hurt more than evil spells? He again wondered if there was even a line between good and evil. Ron had all the time in the world, so he started to find a way out of his cell, a way to apologize to those he betrayed. He just needed to _find a way_. When he thought he’d found a way out, he was thrown into another cell. A cell where others were. Where the people he betrayed were. Tears flooded his eyes and he hugged his friends; he said sorry.

(He’s so sorry. Forgive him.)

Hermione Granger once was a bossy know-it-all. Once she was a girl that wanted to learn everything she could get her hands on. Once she was a girl who looked up to authority figures like they were gods. Soon, her brain became too fast, became too big. It started to learn things that others labeled _dark_ . Those around her started to become scared of her. Scared of her _potential_. Her potential to be the strongest witch of the 20th and 21st century.

They betrayed her for her smarts. Betrayed her for her thinking ability, her big brain. Those outside her cell, outside in the real world, _feared_ her. They feared her potential to be a threat, a leader stronger than _Lord Voldemort_.

They could’ve had her as an ally. Had her as a researcher. Yet, they decided to act on their fear and banished her to a cell with others. Others that seemed so broken. So _betrayed_.

(She is smart. Defeat her.)

Harry Potter once was a naive little boy. So naive of how people act. How people could betray you for the smallest thing. He once wanted recognition, wanted to have somebody _want_ _him_. He thought he’d finally had his dreams fulfilled when a half-giant burst through his relative's door. Finally, Harry would be loved after his _savior_ took him away from his own personal hell. There, he thought, he would finally get positive love. Positive love for who he was: the-boy-who-lived. Yet, the boy-who-lived was a _lie_. A bedtime story created for small children.

Years passed and challenges were conquered. He was still so happy about having a _family._ That all disappeared when they threw him away. They called him a dark lord. They called him _evil_ . He finally decided that if they wanted a dark lord, they were going to get it. He was done with this game of chess. They had thrown him in a cell where he was slowly going insane with those that joined him in this hell. He decided he was going to come out. He was going to _kill_. Nobody was allowed to stop him from taking his revenge.

(He is powerful. Fear him.)

(The Golden Trio)

Draco Malfoy seemed to stay in the corner, staring into space with his silver eyes. His blond hair was a mess rather than its usual slicked back look. Luna Lovegood smiled with her wispy look, insanity clear for those around too see. Pixie eyes seemed to look through the souls of the trio; hope in her eyes. Susan Bones seemed to shine with betrayal at the wall. Her own auntie betrayed her for the ‘law’. Neville Longbottom stared at the floor blankly. His mind ran miles per minute, thinking of a way to get out of here. That was all he’d been doing for years.

** It was not time yet. **

(How would they get out of here?)

Draco Malfoy once was a _pompous brat_ . Once he was spoiled beyond _belief_ . Once he was _privileged_ . Used to join a _dark lord,_ one of the greatest dark lords of the century. Draco Malfoy once was a Death Eater. A brand on his arm as he called a filthy half-breed _my lord_ . He was ashamed of himself. Now, however, he was proud. He was proud that he used to not like to _light side_ . Proud that he hated those disgusting muggles, _ants_ to his superior status.

He was sent here because once, he was a death eater. He was branded like a _slave_ . Even when he turned spy for the _all things good and light_. He hated himself. He questioned all his life decisions.

(He is proud. Discard him.)

“Luna Lovegood is crazy,” others said. “She makes up imaginary creatures,” everyone but this group said. “Everything she says is all made up. Everyone she talks to is insane. Every creature she talks to is imaginary.”

Yet, what if it was all a mask? A mask that hid her ability. Her ability that made her insane. An ability that made everyone fear her and want to _use her_.

Her childhood friend _betrayed her_. A childhood friend that never saw through the mask. The childhood friend that tossed her aside like a broken object. The childhood friend that never saw her coming. It was all planned. Getting tossed in this invisible cage of her visions. It was all planned.

(She is crazy. Taunt her.)

Susan Bones, she didn’t deserve this fate. She once was a lowly _Hufflepuff_. Once she was a peaceful person. She was a beautiful girl that all the purebloods wanted, for her connections to the corrupted Ministry of Magic were great. She once blushed at the simplest compliments. Now, she was full of revenge. Full of hate.

She was betrayed by the one she trusted the most. Her auntie. For those stupid, insane, corrupt, _laws_.

(She is vengeful. Hate her.)

Neville Longbottom was believed to be a squib. A creature without magic. Not human or sentient. Just a mindless monster. He had no feelings. He had no life. He just _was._ When he started to show magic, it was believed to be weak. He might’ve been the boy-who-lived if he were a half-blood. Might’ve been manipulated if he had been born a day later.

Then, as Harry Potter was thrown into jail, he was declared as the savior. He couldn’t hold this untold weight. The weight of the world. He wished and he wished he could join his friends in the depths of hell. He got his wish to come true when he refused to follow the Old Man. The Manipulative Man. The Person Behind The Scenes. Albus Dumbledore.

(What did they do to get this horrible fate?)

 

\------

 

There once was a normal house in a very normal neighborhood. This house was like every other house on the street. Row after row they stood, uniform and identical in every feature. It was very _normal_ . Well, to them it was. To others, the _sameness_ was bothersome.

“Look at the lines of houses that are exactly the same,” they whispered. “How could you find your own house?”

However, this house was not the same as others. It had one different thing. This house had a very _freaky_ nephew. A nephew that did very Strange Things. So, whenever a Strange Thing happened, they blamed it on this nephew. That’s if anyone knew he existed. The only time people could see this nephew was in the backyard. He didn’t go to school. Didn’t learn anything. Yet, he could do math equations like a math genius.

(Yet, he could read as fast as a falcon dives.)

So, we zoomed into this little boy, that seemed about eight years old, and we observed. Who knew that he could be so interesting? This boy was _special_.

(What is his name?)

( **_Harry Potter_ **)

 

Harry Potter, famous for something he didn’t do. Famous for something he didn’t remember. Something he didn’t _want_ to remember. He didn’t know his fame. He didn’t know Magic. Just that he did Strange Things. Strange Things like making his relatives _hurt_ . Making his relatives follow his _orders._ He was famous for something that his mother did. Something that the wizarding world viewed as _dark magic._ Evil magic. Things that they didn’t understand. This discrimination hurt Lady Hecate, making her fade into the void.

(Who is Lady Hecate?)

(The Goddess who gave us our magic.)

This was Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived. The savior of the wizarding world. Lady Hecate blessed this childe, hoping he could save magic. Yet, time passed and when he learned of magic, he wasn’t going to be that oblivious little child that the leader of light was looking for. He wasn’t going to be that boy anymore. Someone that could easily be manipulated and betrayed.

(He defeated the Dark Lord.)

(There goes our last hope for magic.)

With his friends, he was betrayed and thrown in a cell. A cell filled with six others. Others that were betrayed. Just. Like. Him. And like that, the humans lost their magic. Slowly but surely. It’s all because they betrayed the childe of magic. The childe that seemed so lost. So _broken_. Then Luna Lovegood came into the picture. She had her usual wispy smile and had hope in her eyes. That’s when she was revealed as a seer.

“There is still hope in the world,” she said with finality.

Her plan was to travel back in time. A time where little Harry Potter wasn’t as easy to manipulate. They would pray to Lady Hecate to send them in time and she was sure it was going to work. So, every day of every month of every year they prayed. They worshipped her. They loved her like a child to their mother.

The plan succeeded. They were back in their twelve old bodies.

 

\------

 

The house was as normal as usual. A wind blew as it normally would. Clouds floated in the sky, leaving only little blue spots of the sky visible. It was as normal as it always was.

A young boy was weeding the garden with great skill. This boy had emerald eyes that seemed to glow with sorrow. This was unusual for someone as young as himself. Hurt glowed from the scars that covered his body.

He was as abnormal as he seemed. Abnormal as his fellow wizards and witches.

 

_What happened to this poor child?_ Mother Magic asked her father and mother, Life and Death. Magic is not sentient but also not like a rock. She is _alive_ . Life created her personally, Death gave her eternal life or until magic died. _This isn’t what I planned for him. Send him back, please. Send him back to his younger body. Send his older soul to his younger soul._ Mother Magic asked again, and the wish was granted.

 

A bright light shined around the boy, his hair floated up and a white dot went to him. His eyes gleamed with a curious light, wondering what was happening.

“Who are you?” The boy asked to the white dot. He had this feeling that it was a human, but not.

The dot laughed at the boy, a sad laugh. “ _I_ am you, but not. _I_ am you but from the future. _I_ am you but from a world very different from your normal one.” The dot said with an air of mystery. “Let us join souls.”

“How do we do that? How do we join our souls? Aren’t they the same?” The boy questioned, his head tilting as he tried to comprehend the white dot’s words.

The dot laughed a second time at the curious boy. “No, we are not the same. _I_ am you but older. So, _I_ have more experience; my soul is stronger, bigger.” The white dot said through the light.

The boy nodded in understanding and held the dot in his tiny hands. A gasp escaped the boy’s mouth as the dot entered his chest.

A beam of light escaped his body as he closed his emerald eyes. The light disappeared when he opened them, now the color of Avada Kedavra green death.

“I’m back!” He yelled in his mind, and his face split open into a manic, insane, too wide grin.

 

\----

 

The same thing happened to six other souls, where they all yelled in their minds to each other. They were the children of Lady Hecate. They were the chosen ones. They would bring peace to this chaotic world, destroying all in their path.

 

(IT’S TIME)

  


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	2. Petunia, Marigold, and Narcissus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The petunia picks up the marigold.  
> The marigold dies and a narcissus takes his place.

**What does the marigold flower symbolize?**

  * **_His_** ** _despair_** ** _and grief over his parents._**
  * **_His love of warmth and beauty of the rising sun._**
  * **_His hard work of getting the affections of his family._**
  * **_His creativity and drive to _****_succeed_** ** _._**
  * **_His desire for wealth so he can leave this place._**
  * **_His cruelty and coldness due to the jealousy of his family._**
  * **_His_** ** _celebrating_** ** _and_** ** _remembering_** ** _of the dead._**
  * **_His need for a good _****_relationship_** ** _, either romantically or platonically._**



**What does the petunia flower symbolize?**

  * **_Her anger at her sister._**
  * **_Her resentment at the unnatural._**



**What does the narcissus flower symbolize?**

  * **_His_** ** _crazy luck and opportunities._**
  * **_His_** ** _rebirth into the past._**
  * **_His_** ** _wealth and prosperity._**
  * **_His_** ** _bad luck in bad times._**



* * *

      Laugh all **you** want. Cry all **you** want. Lie all **you** want. Do you think I would forgive you for your misdeeds? You aren't as good as others make you out to be. You aren't as light as everyone thinks you are.  The world isn't as black and white as you think. It's full of greys and awful things. Appearances can be deceiving. The person over there with the smile to light up the world is a murderer. They just killed someone with the same smile. Their hands are stained with blood. Yet, are they a bad person? The girl over there in fancy clothing is poor as can be and an information broker. Her hands are just like the stained as a murderer. Yet, is she a bad person? The guy talked to a girl politely is a rapist. His hands are just as stained as a murderer. Yet, is he a bad person?

       It depends on why are they doing it. The murderer is doing it for fun. The information broker is doing it for money. The rapist is doing it by force from their parents. Yet, are they bad? Are they horrible awful people? Reasons change punishment. They are tortured by the victim. She died from old age. He killed his parents and lived a fulfilling life.

       What about you? What are your reasons for your offense? How can you stand there and still manipulate? Even when confronted by your sins? The world doesn't revolve around you. Nobody has to bow down to you. Everyone has a choice to **betray** you. Yet, you believe you can do no wrong. That **nobody** could stand in your way.

       Now, I say to you and anybody out there. Everyone has a **choice** . Everyone has done something **wrong** . Everyone has **lied** . Is **everyone** a bad person? No, no. Only the ones who never learn from their mistakes. **Now, now**...You have a choice to continue your way of life or not.

 

       Should you control the **pawns** on the chessboard?

       Should you become a fair **king**?

       Should you become a corrupt **queen**?

 

       Choose wisely, for you will never know what the choice will do.

* * *

    **November 1st, 1981**

**Harry's Age: 1**

 

   A flower, an ugly, disgusting, furious flower, walked out the front door. Her resentment and anger overpower all other emotions as she looks at the bundle underneath her. Another flower, a marigold, was in this bundle full of sadness. This flower was just a baby boy, nothing to be angry at. Yet, the petunia looked at the marigold with that emotion. The marigold was the spawn of what she couldn't have. He was the spawn of the unnatural.

   The petunia looked at the letter in front of her and scowled. She threw it away as she walked inside. The petunia would take care of the spawn, but with minimal effort. The marigold would be her slave.  A family slave that nobody would know of. Cackling followed her through the house as she told the good news to her husband.

 

    **March 20th, 1988**

**Harry's Age: 7**

He looked at the sky with his eyes. Eyes that were like a cat yet still so dull. The torture he went through every day was too much for his weak mind. Punch after punch. Life was meaningless. Everything was monotone. Nothing had emotion.

And so, the marigold broke.

Again

And

Again.

   Midnight passed as he got no sleep.

   The flowers around the weeds were sprouting as the new day started. Bags under his eyes were pronounced as he kept the garden tended. The red of roses and petunias were common as rats in it. Lavenders made all the conflicting aromas smell better. The Hydrangea signals the narcissism the owners have.

   Aunt said that he shouldn't water the red lilies and let them die. Yet, even when he never even touched them, they keep growing. Never dying like the other flowers he couldn't keep track of. Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin always blame him for that.

   They never physically hurt him, but the words hurt just as much. They were his family and all they shout are 'Boy!' and 'Freak!'. He doesn't even know his own name for heaven's sake. Never went to school as Aunt knows he enjoys learning. Never was seen by the authorities as the only time he goes outside is in the backyard. Never eats every day. He knows it isn't normal for every other child is filled with food. Every other child is spoiled beyond belief. Every other child is loved. Yet, where is his?

   So, as he picks the weeds and waters his flowers, he thinks. Thinking a million thoughts per minute. How can he go out there and let others see him? See him as he is and not the delinquent the neighbors think he is? Time is not on his side, for when would his relatives turn on him even more?

   The sun started rising. How long has he been outside? An hour or ten? He didn't know, he was kept busy all night long. The outside chores are always done during the night. Washing the car takes a while, so does mowing the lawn. All of these chores have to be done before his relatives wake up. If not, something might happen.

   He plans and plans. Then a dot appeared. This dot was his savior; an angel that wanted him to **live**. So, he accepted this angel in disguise and he disappeared. Like he never was born.

* * *

   “It worked!” Harry exclaimed, his happiness clear as day, “Oh Merlin, it actually worked.” He could hardly believe it. How could he when he tried again and again? How could he when it failed multiple times? He should’ve trusted his friends' word and waited. Oh, but he isn’t a patient person. He is temperamental and stubborn. Everything about him burns with fire. A fire so hot the sun is jealous.

   He looked around at the garden. It was beautiful, that was true, but it seemed so fake. Exactly like the others in the neighborhood. He shouldn’t be a gardener if this is what it produces. Laughing at this thought, he continued to pull weeds. Even if it’s been a long time since he pulled weeds; he did it expertly. He grabbed a flower from the garden and smelled it. It's a dead marigold. Almost like it died as the other Harry did. Picking another flower that just bloomed, a narcissus, he laughed. Ah, life was just perfect. Magic gave him a second chance and he was going to use it to the best best of his ability.

   Once done, he turned around to the house. As usual, it’s plain as the others. No creativity whatsoever. He walked into the house and explored it. After all, it’s been a long time since he was in this house.

   His heartbeat over and over again as reality hit him. Manipulation wasn’t going to mess his destiny up again. He was ready to face the world.

    He entered his room after he entered the house - well, more like a cupboard under the stairs. His whistled as he entered the treasure trove of blood. He smiled as he looked at the blood, his mind whirring about how he could use it to his advantage. Excitement shined in his eyes at all the possibilities; blood rituals to blood magic. Blood was his lifeline. It allowed him to do the magic he loved.

   With a wave of his hand, he gathered the blood up in a jar while liquefying it. A manic smile graced his face. He was ready for the world. The world wasn’t ready for him.

   Holding the jar up, he banished it to someplace new. Walking out of the cupboard, he looked around the living room. His smile turned into a frown at the surrounding view. The plain normality kind of freaked him out, ironically. Finally, he looked at the fire in the fireplace, a plan forming in his shattered mind. Then a realization went across his brain: he had no floo powder.

   He had no wand, so no using magic; he even forgot some of the commonly used spells. _How do you apparate?_ He wondered. _What are_ _the words to go with the movement (if there ever_ was _one)_?

   He couldn’t apparate (or cast the Unforgivables) wandlessly, that had proven to be impossible. Well, he was proven to _do_ the impossible. With a thought, he tried to wandlessly apparate. A second passed, nothing happened.

   “Damn it.” He said with an irritated frown. Time was a ticking and he needed to contact his fellow time travelers, but how? Dobby doesn't know about him, so he couldn't use him. Apparating is proving to be impossible.

   Tick, tock, the clock hands move. The door opened hard, abusing the already abused hinges.

 **BOOM** … Nostalgia filled him.

 **BOOM** … His eyes widened and he smiled.

 **BOOM** … A man with a seemingly godly presence entered. Lightning sparkled beneath the man.


	3. Death was created with a thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron is a Tulip and a purple Hyacinth.  
> Hermione is a Begonias and a Lilac.
> 
> Earth - Terra - Midgard is powerful.

Ron was like a white tulip. It might seem weird at first. But, why would it symbolize forgiveness if he was not in mind? It signals new beginnings and a sense of worthiness. His best mate made feel worthy for once in his life. For not being left out and hidden from the world. He wants his relationships to be pure and free from arguments. Yet, is that possible with all the stress that follows him?

Ron was also like a purple Hyacinth. His sorrow of his betrayal and his misguided deeds. This flower also signals forgiveness, for he will forever want forgiveness from all those around him.

After all...

He’s touch-starved in the worst way.

He’s carved into the world in the worst places.

He’s nonesuch in a way that is evil.

He’s soon to be uncarved.

He’s soon to love the feeling of his friends and lovers hugs.

He’s soon to be nonesuch in a way that is good.

(To his friends anyway, but who else really matters?)

* * *

 

**March 1st, 1980**

**Ron’s Age: 1 hour**

 

“Another boy?” Molly asked, disappointed

“Yes,” The medi-witch said with exasperation. She had to deliver 6 boys from one mother. It’s exhausting.

“Give him to his brothers to take care of,” Molly dismissed the medi-witch with a flip of her hand. The medi-witch left with a glare and took the boy to his eagerly awaiting brothers.

“Here you go,” She put the baby in the oldest boys hands.

“Another boy!” The oldest boy, Bill, said. This time with happiness. He always loved having another brother to take care of!

 

**March 20th, 1988**

**Ron’s Age: 8**

 

Ron looked at the sunset with glazed eyes. His mind focused on Harry Potter; the boy from all those story books. He would finally be able to be useful to his family! He just has to befriend Harry and get his money. He would finally be approved! Not ignored and taunted. He was finally going to be acknowledged; that’s all he wanted in life.

Slowly, the sun went under the ground and his grin spread bigger. His eyes seemed to freshen up from their glazed state as a light came to view.

Freeze… Everything was frozen.

Red Light… He stood still.

Green Light…. Everything seemed to go back to normal besides Ron. He seemed to look at the world in a new way; with darkened eyes and twisted smiles. A mischievous spark appeared in his eyes like a firefly.

“Well, well. This was unexpected, right?” Ron said while looking behind him. Standing there was a man with a horned helmet and green eyes that seemed to spread laughter through Ron’s veins.

 

⇉⇄⇈⇅⇊⇆⇇

 

Hermione is a Begonias. She gives her knowledge out like a person gives out chocolate on Halloween. She hopes her friends will grow their knowledge to her level of intellect. Begonias are the ones you give to people that hope they will grow their knowledge or recognition to their intelligence.

Hermione was also like a Lilac. Memory is like second nature to her. She knows something that another asks as quick as a snap. Lilacs symbolize memory and what better flower is connected to her?

Memories, memories… What are memories?

Knowledge, knowledge… What is knowledge?

Memories are true at first, then you add details that weren’t there. You remember what you remembered the last time you remembered it. That is a memory. It’s a copy. You copy that copy and then you get worst copy then the original.

Knowledge is ever growing. Even when your mind is as mature, you are still learning. You are learning how to walk, how to become friends with someone, how to love, and how to take care of your children. Learning is an everyday thing.

* * *

 

**September 19th, 1982**

**Hermione’s Age: 3**

 

Hermione was very smart; even strangers could tell. She talked at the age of one and walked at the age of two. Now, on her third birthday, she learned how to read. She loved to learn and get all the knowledge she could get her hands on.

“She’s prodigy!” Some said to her mother with awe.

“She’s a spoiled brat,” Others whispered behind her back.

 

**March 20th, 1988**

**Hermione’s Age: 8**

 

Bullies filled her whole childhood; her feeling of proving herself seemed to grow year by year. She was always in the spotlight for being a genius. An IQ higher than any in recorded history, well, at her age anyway.

Celebrities greeted her when they meet her, for her intelligence greatly surpassed their’s. Those who specialize in math or science looked at her like a project.

Now, she stood here at eight years old, a book in hand at her house. Her eyes seemed to be focused on the pages.

She suddenly looked up, sensing a disturbance in the usually quiet environment. Behind her, a newly turned adult smirked. His hands were behind his head and he walked closer.

“Boo,” He whispered into her ear.

Familiar… The voice was very familiar.

Shock… Her body went into shock for a quick second.

Smile… A genuine smile lit up her face.

“Oh god, we’re back!” Hermione exclaimed.

“I missed you too, little sis,” The adult laughed.

 

⇉⇄⇈⇅⇊⇆⇇

 

Once upon a time, there were creatures that dreamed. Those dreams soon became true and life sprouted from the ground. Most might say Earth – Terra – Midgard was the last planet to be created. Only few knew the truth. This world was the first to be created, because why did it have so many names if it was created last? It wouldn’t have been as known as it was if it was created only a million years ago. The gods wouldn’t include Midgard in the planets they rule if it didn’t benefit them somehow.

Yet, the knowledge of why Earth – Terra – Midgard was so threatening was lost as most things are in history. The only ones that know the true nature of Terra are living planets nearby it. They could feel its power. They created a pact to never mention to anyone other then themselves. After all, the power must have been a secret if no one knows of it? They don’t want that power against them.

Earth – Terra – Midgard was a mystery to most. The people who live on Earth are the ones with the most will, the most strength. It just takes a million years to unlock this power. The power to create deities from imagination and faith.

Trillions of years ago, the universe always lived forever. Death wasn’t a thing, then the first human thought about killing for food, for they wanted the animal to not suffer. They couldn’t eat meat or plants without the animal to continue to live, even if they aren’t moving. They would know all the pain they feel through the eating process. Who wants to feel that?

So, death was created with a thought.

So, a million years before, life was created.

So, in another million years, magic was created.

So, the universe started moving.


End file.
